Wisdom on a Saturday Afternoon

I don't think you need to have grey hair to have wisdom. I think it's just way more common that the grey-hairs (I say that with all the respect in the world) find wisdom because they've had a lot more time to screw stuff up. You don't learn until you mess up, and then recognize that you messed up. And you will mess up. The grey-hairs have figured this out and accepted it. That's where they get wisdom.

I am currently sitting at a desk and greeting the occasional (and boy are they occasional) gym-comer, working for a miserably low sum of money. I have no homework that I am motivated enough to work on, so for the last 3 hours I've been doing what I never have time (or make time) to do: read.

In this process of reading, I have gained wisdom. I have realized I messed up and accepted that this is a fact. It cannot and will not change the past, but it can certainly do a lot for the future. It already has.

See the following article, and really take time to read it, if you wish to know more of what I mean.

http://www.equinestudies.org/fostering_long_life/on_fostering_long_life_pdf.pdf

Love is more than good care. Love is more than the time you spend riding, training and working. Ultimately, love comes down to the bond, the willingness to make the other happy, and the amount of time you spend with them that you are truly, 100% present.

I give this horse credit for why I have gained this wisdom. Being young and naive and stubborn and largely uneducated when I got him, I didn't know enough, I hadn't screwed up enough, and I certainly didn't recognize when I screwed up to always do right by him. I feel awful when I think back on the times I got frustrated with him, jerked the reins, yelled because he was weaving and I couldn't do anything about it. He was not an easy horse to deal with, but I wasn't an easy person to deal with either.

Then I remember good moments, moments where I have to believe there was something else going on, some other force working. The decision I made to take him off stall rest when he injured his right hind was one of the kindest, most humane things I ever did for him. Pictured above was a moment I often enjoyed (as did he, as you can see): finding "that spot" and rubbing until my arm felt like it'd fall off. And then comes "the" decision, to end his life and let him go.

I still have mixed feelings, or at least I did. The human part of me wants to cling to the idea that I could have done more, that I could have learned more, been more educated, done something. I could have fixed him. The logical side of me knows that wasn't possible. I was young, stupid, overly-ambitious and slightly ill-tempered. It's how we learn.

There's also the side of me that fought putting him down: did I do it soon enough (the answer is no, at least in my mind), why didn't I know to do it sooner, why couldn't I see he wasn't right, why didn't I shut everyone else's opinion out and listen to just him? Of course it's a lesson learned the hard way, but why couldn't I be the one who didn't have to go through it?

I've asked myself all of these things over and over and over the past few months. I miss Ernie. I miss him more than I've ever missed anything in my life. But there is no doubt in my mind, seeing how quiet and relaxed and calm he was that day, that I did the right thing. I think it took me up until now to really accept this. It took me up until now to gain this wisdom.

Anyone who hasn't been through putting a horse down will usually try and intellectualize the process: "how do you know? What are the signs?" The answer really is, you just do. If you know your horse, and he knows you, you will know the answer when it comes time. And, you will be able to trust that you will know before the time even gets close.

Now, I have a young horse who is full of energy and life and promise. She is willing and intelligent and quick, and I have a duty to do right by her and listen to her now so I will know immediately when she says "it's time". That's just what I plan to do.